


Starlight

by kichihoshi



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Developing Friendships, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Tragedy, Roadtrips, parallel words, unexplained phenomena
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kichihoshi/pseuds/kichihoshi
Summary: A king exiled, a thief in the night, a scientist searching for signs of lifeinspired by Fling Posse’s magnificent song, Stella.
Kudos: 9





	Starlight

* * *

The first thing Malleus notices is the hot breeze kissing his face. The warmth wakes him, and he takes time to open his eyes gently. The dark shadows of tall canopies have been replaced by a blinding light, something he’s not used to; something he hasn’t seen in a long time.

He turns away, the shining rays of the sun weighting too much on his sight. Gathering his thoughts, he finds his cheeks leaning against a wasteland. There’s a patch of dirt on his face now, and he groans.

 _Where am I?_ His legs shake. There is a curious look on his face, almost unsettling that he finds his muscles trembling; then, he falls.

A moment of shock strikes him, eyes wide in disbelief. He takes in a deep breath, shaking his head as the memories come flooding back to him.

 _That’s right, how the mighty have fallen._ The Valley of Thorns is _no_ longer mine.

His heart is burdened by the sudden truth he refuses to accept, so he finds himself on his knees once again, feeling invigorated at the thought of taking back what he was forced to leave behind. The fall of a king is a tragedy - a page in a book he never thought would be written with his name.

But what are pages but paper? He can wash away the ink. He could tear it apart and write in anew.

His blood boils, remembering what had happened on the night of the betrayal. Those sweet words he believed in were nothing more but practiced deception, a suspicion he had tried to brush away for the sake of trust… _for the sake of love_. 

One chooses to believe the trick of the light, a smile or a happy moment. Malleus was not fond of sabotaging his own happiness, but he could have indeed let his guard down, allowing his feelings to guide him, leaving him unknowingly vulnerable.

Lilia was right, after all. He should've listened. 

Thinking back, he realizes that he only has himself to blame; and for a moment, perhaps the idea of revenge is only self-serving, an attempt to redeem himself. Perhaps he had no right. However, to say that he had traded his kingdom for selfish reasons is one thing he can never truly stomach. That _is_ the biggest lie.

He stands there, looking over the vast yet empty space, watching a tumbleweed pass by. 

If all responsibility should fall on him, then this exile would be his cross to carry. 

The silence whispers in agreement, carrying a sandstorm in his midst. He embraces it fully, letting the anger of his ancestors feast on his body. True absolution, it would seem, is to purge the impurities out of one's form through physical punishment. 

It stings. The dirt settles over him like the bite of a snake, a whip lashing over his face. He keeps his eyes shut, throwing his head back as the last wave passes through. 

And he chokes. 

His hands find their way to his neck, and he slowly exhales in a painful cough. 

_Pathetic, truly pathetic._

He clutches his heart, nails ripping into his clothes, almost grazing his skin. There is no greater pain than to be sick of heart, more so, to have something so precious torn into pieces for reasons one can never understand.

What did he ever do to warrant such fate as cruel as this? He has an eternity to ponder upon it. 

From the corner of his eyes, something glints, reflecting the light of the sun, and he finds himself drawn into its direction. 

“This is…” He looks at the object with a small smile, the only definite thing he knows for now. He picks the scepter with sure hands, letting himself feel the wooden body. 

A chuckle escapes from his lips, letting the pillar stand tall, so much more taller than him. This has been a symbol of his power, the mark of a ruler so powerful he was feared by all who knew his name. 

With a little bit of his pride coming back together, he brandishes the scepter, hoping to bring some magic.

* * *

The tires screech as the car swerved to a stop. The motion sends Ruggie forward, his head almost colliding with the dashboard. His heart is running a mile ahead of him, almost sure that he had been a goner.

He grips on the steering wheel tighter, afraid that he might disintegrate the moment his fingers slip. He needs to hold on to something, to feel that this moment is real.

Just before the car skidded, it was night. 

He and his gang had their eyes set on breaking into an old mansion. Their target was almost in ruins, abandoned by the wealthy family that once ruled over their land. It would hardly be called stealing, after all, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

And Ruggie had already promised his grandma he would never do something like that again. He remembers the tears in her eyes, begging him to get out of trouble. It should have been the last, that’s what he said. One more heist, and he’ll quit.

Yet their plans were foiled, because the old mansion turned out to be guarded, and they were hunted instead.

He doesn’t know what’s become of the gang. They scurried away from the place like mice after getting caught. He ended up stealing a car parked at the end of the street, and he thought to ditch it somewhere, saving himself the explanation, rather than owning up to his mischief and disappointing his grandmother again.

But he had driven or hours on. The roads were dark and eerie. 

Then all at once, as if a vortex had suck him in, the car has been propelled towards the light.

“...What the hell?”

He breathes in hard, throwing his head back into the car seat. He felt all energy drain from his body, nerves trembling.

For the first time, he feels _scared_.

_Calm down, calm down_. He tells himself, the fingers curling over the wheel slowly relaxing, until he finally feels it safe to let go.

Ruggie closes his eyes, breathing hard.

This could all just be a dream, and when he opens his eyes, he’ll find the scent of mushroom soup waking his stomach. That’s right -- when he opens his eyes, he’ll be back at the Savannah, just as the sun was about to rise.

_When he opens his eyes._

His ears twitch at a thudding sound against the hood of the car. And what he sees is not the dawn in his homeland, but a dark figure staring at him across the windshield. His clothes have been visibly soiled by sand, his face ridden with traces of dirt. Yet, the mysterious man stands proud, wearing his horns like a crown. 

Ruggie’s lungs take a hitch. The sharp eyes of a predator takes away his voice, and all he could do was stare in horror.

But soon, Malleus closes his eyes, falling over the hood of Ruggie’s car.


End file.
